23. Letter
Letter
Jackson,
First of all, bubblegum ice cream with gummy bears and hot fudge sounds like an actual bio-hazard. I am entirely on Logan’s side here—you are a terrible influence, and you absolutely deserved to get chocolate on your favorite shirt.
Tell Willow that ducks do not eat bubblegum ice cream.
They eat cracked corn and small bugs, but if she ever meets one, she can try offering it a sprinkle.
Also, tell her I fully support her operational decision to ban Leo from the birthday party.
You have to establish dominance early when it comes to the green crayon.
Your letter got here right after we finished a grueling twelve-hour vehicle maintenance detail in a massive dust storm.
My eyes are full of grit, my back is killing me, and I smelled heavily of diesel fuel until about twenty minutes ago.
But sitting on my bunk, reading about a six-foot-two hockey player being pushed around by a six-year-old in a sparkly unicorn tutu?
It’s the first time I’ve laughed out loud in a week.
Brody actually stopped cleaning his rifle to ask what the hell was wrong with me.
He managed to swipe two of the white chocolate macadamia cookies, by the way. He told me to tell you that you’re officially his favorite person on the civilian grid. I think you’ve turned into his secret cookie dealer!
You said you want a quiet life someday, Jackson.
Away from the noise. I hope you get that.
If anyone deserves a soft porch and a family of their own, it’s the guy who lets a little girl paint his nails neon pink just to make her smile.
You have a good heart, Jackson. Don’t let the noise make you forget that.
I don’t have a lot of sunshine to send back to you from this bunk, but I drew a little duck eating an ice cream today.
Splash